A look at ATONEMENT

A movie or a text has boundless possibilities of interpretation. That's why perhaps literary theories gained so popularity in last decades. Yesterday I watched Atonement. A stupendous movie. It abounds in loops or aporia.  But a careful viewer can deconstruct the psychological loops in the movie. The movie will also remind you of Barthes "typology of codes". According to Barthes there are five codes through which one can interpret a text. These are respectively: Hermeneutic Code, Proairetic Code, Semantic Code, Symbolic Code and Cultural Code. I will not go on explaining all the codes here because the subject of my emphasis is symbols and psychological loops in the movie Atonement.  

According to Hermeneutic Code , a critic deciphers the inherent meaning which is not overt on the surface of a text. The mysterious meaning in Atonement is Briony's psycho-sexual desires for Robby and her Id, Ego and repressed self. The movie has infinite possibilities for psycho analysis. 

 

Here is the summary of Atonement (movie) - When Briony Tallis, 13 years old and an aspiring writer, sees her older sister Cecilia and Robbie Turner at the fountain in front of the family estate she misinterprets what is happening thus setting into motion a series of misunderstandings and a childish pique that will have lasting repercussions for all of them. Robbie is the son of a family servant toward whom the family has always been kind. They paid for his time at Cambridge and now he plans on going to medical school. After the fountain incident, Briony reads a letter intended for Cecilia and concludes that Robbie is a deviant. When her cousin Lola is raped, she tells the police that it was Robbie she saw committing the deed when in fact it was a visitor to the estate. (source: review) 

 

Symbolic Code - Its so paradoxical that Robby Turner dies out of thirst while Cecilia dies by drowning. And it does relate to the fatal incidents in the beginning of the story that affected the unconscious of Briony. One incident occurs at the pond where Briony plunges into the water so that Robby will save her life. Plunging into the water to get her love is a powerful symbol that communicates with another such incident in which Cecilia plunges into the fountain water to get a broken piece of vase. She does this act in anger but it also represents her thirst like other characters. Here Briony sees both at the fountain and misinterprets the whole incident. This misinterpretation rises from her unconscious desire for Robby. And in her anger and envy she unconsciously takes revenge upon Robby and Cecilia. The last scene of the movie is shoot at the ideal beach house where Cecilia and Robby plays with water on the beach. Thus in the whole story Thirst and Water becomes prominent symbols. 

The movie poses a very interesting question in my mind - the writer of the novel Atonement in the movie is Briony who says that the novel is autobiographical but she has changed the ending by making it possible for Cecilia and Robby to live together forever. Now she says that ‘as a final act of kindness I gave them their happiness…which they deserved… .’ To give a sense of hope to readers she ends it happily. Now I wonder whether it is fine to change the reality, to cater the naked truth or it is better to slant the truth and sustain the hope ? I wonder if someday I write my own story , will I change my true emotions and tragedies and if I do so will I do in order to fill the readers with a hope or in order to pacify my own guilty heart and to eradicate my criminal feelings ? 

A Passage to India : A Rich Food for Mind and Soul

A Passage to India is a 1984 drama film written and directed by David Lean. The screenplay is based on the 1924 novel of the same title by E.M. Forster and the 1960 play by Santha Rama Rau that was inspired by the novel.I haven't read the novel yet but the film was an unforgettable experience. On the basis of the movie , I would like to discuss few things which seem to be important to me at present. 


In the movie, I discerned the theory of Orientalism (as proposed by Edward Said in his book Orientalism ,published in 1978). The following pointers will show my understanding of Orientalism through the movie-


1.) In the beginning of the story when Mrs Moore and Adela are going to the Chandrapore , a fictional city of India ,the wife of collector says to them " East is East. It is a matter of culture." Thus indicating the Eurocentric Universalism which takes for granted the Superiority of West and inferiority of what is not (i.e. East). 


2.) In the movie , the mindset of Westerners / Imperialists is very adroitly captured. The Indians are despised. They are treated as surrogate or even underground self. They are not supposed to befriended. East becomes the projection of those aspects of Westerners which they themselves refuse to acknowledge (cruelty, barbarism, laziness, sexuality and alike.) When Dr. Aziz is accused of attempted rape on Adela , White people says disdainfully that darker men are attracted towards white ladies (thanks to Mr. Amrit Rao who objects with a memorable repartee " Even if the lady is not so attractive?" ).


3.) Recognizing East as undeveloped pool of barbarism , at the same time and paradoxically , Westerners tend to recognize East as a fascinating realm of exotic, mystical and seducing. This is presented through the characters of Adela and Mrs Moore. Both are fascinated by India and seized by Indian spirit. Mrs Moore wonderfully utters her view of India when she says , " India forces you to come face to face with your real self." And it really does so in both Mrs Moore and more overtly in Adela's case. 

Adela Quested

These are three important factors of Orientalism which are so truly reflected in the movie. On the plain of symbolism also the movie excels. The presentation through cinematography is so keen. When the camera pauses on the moon-lit holy water of Ganga , seducing ancient statues in isolated places and dark caves of Marabar hills you are deeply shocked like protagonist and forget you are watching an English movie. The after-effect is so mesmerizing. The story presents an inter relation between explicit motifs like monkey , seducing statues and caves. Motifs stress the sexual tension of protagonist as well as her confrontation of this tension. Adela Quested is engaged to Ronny Heaslop. When she watches the Chandrapore from distance she is troubled by her loveless engagement with Ronny Heaslop. She questions Dr.Aziz about his marriage and whether he loved his wife before marriage. Later, the echoes in the cave (echo of her own unconscious self) greatly disturb her and make her confront her real self  which she misinterprets as a sexual assault by Dr. Aziz. Thus the novel becomes rich on the psychological and symbolical level. 


At the end of the novel , Dr. Aziz does not befriend Richard Fielding but waits and prays for the day India would be released from British Colonial Rule. Forster employs Ambivalent attitude towards East and its relationship with West of which Homi Bhabha talks in Post Colonial Theory. The movie is a great treat for those who want to but can not read all literature under the sun. And interestingly, I found the movie A Passage to India better than other movies based on novels. I bet you wont regret watching it even if you are no good a reader because it provides ample food for mind and spirit. And if you are a proud scholar of literature then you can't miss it because it not only helps to understand Post Colonial Theory and Orientalism but it also gives you an insight of the most important work of a major twentieth century writer E.M Forster.

Mrs Moore (Peggy Ashcroft) who becomes
at the age of 77,
the first oldest actor to receive Academy Award
for best Supporting actress

Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse

So many thoughts are hurling up in my mind but channeling them towards the line of this Blog , I will talk about the book in my hand and my thoughts as they run while reading it.

Presently , I am reading Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse. New York review had said that its his greatest work. But I wont agree to it until I have read all works written by him , because I believe even a line written by an author in leisure can be great than his greatest of novels. Well , Hesse disturbs me. When I am with him , I am aware of a mirror that shows you your contradictory self. The dichotomy within you is unleashed.

Narcissus is mind : disciplined, logical and therefore dry. Goldmund is heart : passionate, imaginative and therefore beautiful but dangerous. Narcissus believes that a particular road is destined for you to explore your gifts and whatever it is, you must accept and find your way. He helps Goldmund to recognize his exclusive way and himself retires for the cloister life. Goldmund, who for long had been cherishing the life of mind suddenly finds himself out in the world discovering women and love.

I have myself many times experienced this dichotomy within. I have been Narcissus sometimes, unconsciously punishing my soul for some inherent guilt and sometimes I had been too passionate like Goldmund to learn all that is wonderful in the world. Lately , I have been contemplating about the ways of self-destruction and if what seems self-destruction is really something destructive or there can be more beneath it. And this is closely related to my vision of Black Moon.

I am curious to know where Goldmund's path leads him to. And what happens to Narcissus. I will quote some lines from the text which even I had contemplated many times  :

Yes, life itself bore something of guilt within it - why else had a man so pure and aware as Narcissus subjected himself to penance like a condemned felon? And why did he himself feel this guilt somewhere deep inside him?

There are many paragraphs and lines which you feel you have thought it yourself before and perhaps this and not so much else that prompts you to read on , that makes a work so familiar and you cant help picking up works by such an author. 

On Corruption

Whoo!! Everybody is talking of corruption these days as if it exists somewhere on the chouraha in the form of a monument or is found in the sink of your kitchen. Of course I support Anna Hazare but is that only enough? Supporting a cause is fine but only if you think two feet below you would know implementation of a law can curb the surface corruption of people's activity but it wont cut the roots in their mind. Their desires will not end. People are diseased whatever the reason be : poverty, greed, lust and so on and so forth. From a bhikari to rikshawalah to govt officer and big corporate tycoons everyone is corrupted. 

Corruption is nothing but the absence of Honesty. Yesterday a Rickshawalah took 30bucks hardly for crossing the lane. It just shook me deeply somewhere. What an irony. People are fighting with Govt for abolition of corruption and what the men themselves practice for their benefits. No , corruption is not somewhere inherent in the Kursi or A.C its in the mind , mind of people , irrespective of their country , caste , class and gender. 


 And its not only about the corruption for monetary benefits , the worms of corruption has eaten away the moral values of people in every part of daily life. So lets just pray and hope unto death that the sky will be more clear one day that the hearts of people will be more innocent and childlike. 
(Image source: Google Images)

Diary of Midnight’s children

16.08.11

[I was born with five hundred and others on the precise moment of India’s birth. Next day , i.e. on sixteenth August I received a letter from the ,then, PM Pandit Nehru, which congratulated me and said that my life will reflect India’s life. And now I think …]

Have sixty four years already passed? Where the time flies. I am old. … a tattered coat upon a stick… where palsy shakes a few , sad, last grey hairs, where youth grows pale and spectre-thin, and dies; where but to think is to be full of sorrow… but today I wont be egotist and self-cursing…

My sixty-fourth birthday went unnoticed. Because everyone was waiting eagerly for the next day, i.e. Today. Yesterday I wore black to support no…not Anna but my own long forgotten dream – to save my country. Optimism is a disease and even in my old age I was not spared. I will fight. …facing old age, Ulysses yearns to explore again…

I don’t know what the time will bring…

But I can smell , yes I do , its anger in the air… rising rising like blue flames burning like a midnight lamp

The Diary of Midnight's Children : Optimism is a Disease

" I do believe, that in spite of everything, people are still good at heart."
Dear Liria, even I held that for long ... but then I read that..."... optimism is a disease..." and dunno why I feel I was diseased till now. First, the disease of depression and then excess Optimism. Is there no other way to take things? Balance , but then in this maddening world where the balance is? 


This book , Midnight's Children , is no doubt a fascinating book. Mr. Rushdie has got his gifts and in it he exploited them at their best. But still its baffling... too much... it calls your attention , a literary nose ears eyes and then just punch you on your face and you feel it was just an another book but yes very fascinatingly told , to baffle you? Or the lines make a labyrinth? 


Well , I am looking forward to read some literary articles on the book. Specially on - Saleem and Women,  Saleem and History , The Ironies , The Paradoxes and Magic Realism...


No doubt I loved the technique and there are some lines which you just cant put off - for instance, 
"Love does not conquer all ... and optimism is a disease..."
"...I hear lies being spoken in the night, anything you want to be you can be, the greatest lie of all..."


And many more...


Rest for later.
Ciao...

The Diary of Midnight's Children : The Game

27-7-11

(I have really begun to doubt on the real-ness of time)

Feeling a deep sense of loss. What has been lost but? Some dice , some coin , some beads are missing… but to where have they gone? Diaries! my first friend in this world was a diary and others were those words and spaces captured in that diary… but here we will talk about games… didn’t I use to say, “The games that we always played…”

 

Snake and Ladders. He writes : “All games have morals; and the game of Snakes and Ladders captures, as no other activity can hope to do, the eternal truth that for every ladder you climb, a snake is just waiting around the corner, and for every snake, a ladder will compensate.”

Indeed an eternal truth, to which no explanation is requisite.

Two full pages without a full stop and first time I felt something sort of a liking for this narrative. Flowing, lucid, lyrical almost like chanting the sacred letters on beads… I felt like I am walking on silken road while reading the prose…

The Diary of Midnight's Children : in Fragments

(No date can be given because this draft was written in Fragments)



So our protagonist Saleem Sinai is not yet born. And we are around January 1947 , the most terrific year in the history of India. What a perfect time to be born.

"It seems like a day for big questions." ... Of course or why would I meet with a midnight tragedy , pause my writing work, resume again , fail again and now when I wake up I confront a big question. But leave that, here I must be in the circumference of the text. So the big the questions are -

Where the optimism is? If even time can be changed like this ("...clocks in Pakistan would run half an hour ahead of their Indian counterparts...") what's real anymore? And "what's real and what's true aren't necessarily the same."  Now no more about these questions.

The announcement of Saleem's birth saves one life. And then destiny takes Saleem's mother to a prophesy - a prophesy about Saleem's birth. Quite crudely , we come to know about Saleem Sinai. Something as the apparitions in Macbeth  had prophesied...

"He will have sons without having sons! He will be old before he is old! And he will die... before he is dead."

Well lets move on. There is this quote I had underlined : "My God... it seems that there are a million different things to love about every man." When Amina says this , I know what does she really mean. As her father , Ahmed Aziz , had once attempted to pray , she is attempting to love her husband. Its a nice way to love someone - love in bits. This way you would never fed up with the person and find  him anew every day. Only a woman can choose this way because a man always has more easy ways. But even when she tries to love his every part and action, what is surety that she would be able to love him in integrity? After all, "who... ever truly knows another human being completely?" In Adam Aziz's relationship with Naseem he had loved her (literally) in fragments and so could never be at peace with her when she came in his life in integrity. We think of fragments and are overjoyed that we are in love and yet we don't know who the person really is.

Anyway , one more typically Indian reference can be traced in the motif of 'nose'. These olfactory references are so powerful and obvious in the text that one can not ignore them. I guess would discuss them later.  

(to be continued...)

The Diary of Midnight's Children

“Please believe that I am falling apart.”

Quite impressive is the first sentence of the third chapter of Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. But the following paragraph, specially the concluding lines explicating the science of ‘falling apart’, is what I would say pulls me back out of the text.

The book has a grand opening. And after the two pages you feel you have chosen a great book. And that’s not ironic. I loved when the protagonist’s grandfather (he is dwelling in the history of his past) meets an alteration in his faith in God. The whole incident is beautifully described and in somewhat filmy-graphic style.

 “. … And was knocked forever into the middle place, unable to worship a God in whose existence he could not wholly disbelieve. Permanent alteration: a hole.”

Such fragments are scattered all over the text but after all they remain fragments. In brief, Salman Rushdie seems to me the “Shobha De intellectualized”. The witty, adroit language and aphorisms* surely captivates a reader but this magic spell is unable to transform one.

However , this book seems more sensible and intellectual than many by Indian authors and of Indian context. Rushdie plays upon local words, phrases, attitudes and characters confidently and almost humorously. But I do not mean to examine the text critically just now --- I have only completed a half century, and Gosh six more are yet left.

Not a review but this time I intend to maintain a diary of Midnight’s Children. Primarily because this was an impulse and logically, because it’s a huge book and worth an attempt at critical analysis. This being the first post of this series, it may seem messy , unclear and digressing from the points but let us tolerate a bit and help to make it better.

A little overview and a bit of thought –

Saleem Sinai, the protagonist is not yet born. We meet his grandfather , Dr. Adam Aziz , a Germany return a skeptic, vulnerable fellow. He is shown to have lost his faith while hitting the stony frost ground and losing three drops of blood. Anyhow, It doesn’t convince. Losing a faith or even an alteration can occur if there is already a space and cause for that. Author’s choice for diction itself proves it:

“One Kashimiri morning in the early spring of 1915, my grandfather Adam Aziz hit his nose against a frost-hardened tussock of earth while attempting to pray.”  

This highlighted word emphasizes the fact that he was attempting and not actually whole-heartedly, devoutly praying. There is a great difference in ‘praying’ and ‘attempting to pray’.

The character sketch of Adam’s friend Tai and his wife Naseem is quite interesting, as they present the other side of Adam’s attitude. They are quite attached to the past and traditional beliefs. Such as, Naseem does not bother if the Maulvi teaches their children to hate non-Muslims because her only concern is that the children should be given the religious education and Tai despises Adam’s medical kit (leather-bag) and its instruments because they are the symbols of outside unknown world with its unknown maladies.

In the beginning , the story goes along with the story of India’s struggle for freedom. The Muslim perspective might contribute the second dimension to the history. Let us see that …

(to be continued...)

The Glass Bead Game

I spent last few days reading the magnum opus of Herman Hesse , The Glass Bead Game. After going through some tiresome forty pages of introduction, I began with the life of Joseph Knecht, who was born into twenty-fifth century, according to our author.

This book is not an ordinary novel or biography, it demands your participation. While reading it , I had to pause many times for short meditation and contemplation exercises. I enjoyed them truly and found them fruitful.

Castalia , the educational province had a fine sketch and a major role to play in the book.

I realized that my experience of Banasthali helped me to get the idea of Castalia. They both are aloof from the outside world. In the period after Banasthali , I have often longed for the childlike innocence and simplicity of Banasthali Life. But this dichotomy of life is presented in many forms in the book.

The subject of dichotomy brings Blake to my mind. He had said , ‘Without contraries is no progression’. The crux of his “Songs of Innocence” and “Songs of Experience” is that both innocence and experience are required for the development of soul. This experience is not something evil or worldly but a belief that truth is not simple or blissful. And this perhaps what Knecht realized later in his life and resigned from the post of Magister. He craved for risks, sufferings and worldly experiences. The innocence, chastity , intellectual freedom of Castalian life would not provide for the other side of his soul.

And It’s not only about being aware of dichotomies but about crossing the threshold of known to the realms of unknown. Knecht , in his childhood , had called it “a leap”. In his own words, “ But I do wish that if ever time comes and it proves to be necessary, that I too will be able to free myself and leap, only not backward into something inferior but forward into something higher.”

Freeing oneself – sounds so blissful. But it isn’t always easy to free yourself. When you grow your consciousness of the Life consisting of different stages and your ultimate goal would be something higher than things related to the World and aspirations of present life, you would be able to free yourself. You would move swiftly, firmly and without fear or regrets to the next stage , even if it is the period after promising youth or death.

Stages - a poem by Hermann Hesse , From Glass Bead Game

As every flower fades and as all youth
Departs, so life at every stage,
So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever.
Since life may summon us at every age
Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,
Be ready bravely and without remorse
To find new light that old ties cannot give.
In all beginnings dwells a magic force
For guarding us and helping us to live.
Serenely let us move to distant places
And let no sentiments of home detain us.

The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us
But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.
If we accept a home of our own making,
Familiar habit makes for indolence.
We must prepare for parting and leave-taking
Or else remain the slave of permamence.
Even the hour of our death may send
Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,
And life may summon us to newer races.
So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.

With Keats

Half of the morning today I spent with Keats. I have read him several times and this revision was a sort of reunion. When you read and penetrate into a beloved writer at different stages of your life, you happen to come close to him more and more.

Its quite funny to recollect, how for the first time when I read Keats’ quote , “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.” (Endymion) I felt repulsion towards him. An instant hatred. Which anyone in my mind’s status would have felt. Perhaps I thought myself too ugly or un-beautiful. I saw this beauty in relation with physical beauty. How trifle my mind had been at that time. When after few years of that misunderstanding I read ‘Ode to Grecian Urn’ and its famous quote, “Beauty is Truth and truth beauty, All ye know, and need to know on earth.” I was perplexed. I didn’t accuse him or anything but I tried to go into deep and find what truth he had to present here. But again I couldn’t dive into the meaning easily.

Keats to me seems to be an Icon of Youth – a dreamy youth. And also of a path to Truth which worships Beauty. To an ordinary person this may sound ridiculous, for beauty and truth seems two poles apart. But if you telescope, you find them synonyms. And to avert the prejudice against Keats philosophy you need to speculate upon all his poems. For  Keats beauty does not only dwell in joyful things but it also resides in Melancholy. Scenes, things or feelings which arise melancholy may also be beautiful because there has some truth in them too, and so death also contains beauty in it. Truth and Beauty are thus inseparable.

Keats had a fine eye for beauty. And this is truly wonderful. Though the path of beauty to Truth sounds the best and without sorrows and struggles but this is not so. For Keats’ own life is an example of the perils, pains and sufferings one has to face in spite of choosing such perfect seeming path. In all Odes of Keats , the Melancholic note is prominent. His joy of beauty is not without the sorrows.

Keats aspires for the eternal beauty in the form of immortal Nightingale but he also finds beauty in the Songs of Autumn. This beauty has two facets. And both are welcomed by Keats. He is definitely not an idealist and escapist. He knows the reality of the world – the world of mortal sufferings and still he is able to find his song in it.

As I had said above, when you a love an author you gradually find a parallel of him inside you. You discover your own face which is akin to him. For a romantic, Keats could be such a beloved author. He is so natural , so ingenious and so very profound that you can take a walk with him time and again.  

My dear Anna...

I was mere an adolescent when I first read a Tolstoy’s story. It was a remarkable story about a wife’s dream of her husband who has snow white hairs instead of black which sadly comes true at the end. This fictional dream hunted me for long.

Mystery of dreams and intuitions always engage my deepest attention. I still remember how I had felt after reading Tolstoy’s story .  And same I felt again after reading Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. For me , this epic fiction oscillates between a super-realistic dream and an awareness of corporeal world and human relations.

 

Though being world’s greatest fiction it deals with every aspect of mundane life but what really attracted me was psychological struggles of major characters. Where Lenin strives for Katie’s love and later to feel God’s blessings , Alexei suffers and tries to overcome the blow on his sophisticated social life. Dolly chooses to accept her husband’s character as a philanderer and thus lives a spurious life like other major characters except Anna. Anna doesn’t love her husband and later begins to feel for Count Vronsky. She spurns to live a double life as offered by her husband who doesn’t really care whom her wife loves but wants to save his reputation. But Anna can not sacrifice her honesty and so chooses to be an outcast by living with Vronsky without a formal divorce with her husband.

“Can one ever tell anyone what one’s feeling?” Anna asks to herself towards the end. And this question can pose more somber one in a reader’s mind, “Can one ever know anyone ? Or even oneself?”  … “the struggle for existence and hatred is the one thing that holds men together. No it’s a useless journey you are making.”  Anna is talking to herself. Human relations and the motives behind one’s action are very intricate to understand. Self-interest , consciously or unconsciously overshadows love most of the times.

We perished , each alone ,

But I beneath a rougher sea… (As Mr. Ramsay mumbles in To The Lighthouse)

And yet why should the life be ended like this? Why our faith should diminish when hope is a lifeline given to us by God? The novel ends along with Levin’s struggle. After Anna’s episode is left unresolved and romantically ended , it is through Levin Tolstoy gives the Mantra to his deserving reader. But that mantra is like a precious gem which reader must seek and bring out himself . 

P.S. -

To my Anna , 

 Immoral , moral , or beyond that (as my teacher used to say – nothing is moral or immoral) , my Anna I don’t judge you , will never. Because I know you listened to your heart and did what you needed to do because you could have never done otherwise. Only human eyes see tragedy otherwise there is no such thing called a tragedy. Life goes on , and there is an afterlife and so on and so forth…we born ,  we learn , we perish and only wisdom we carry with us… you also did , I am sure… and you have won my heart my dear Anna...

A different look at my favorites : Raja Hindustaani

Sundays were always favorite of mine in schooldays. Not only due to holiday but because I would get to watch the movies whole day. God knows how many times I have watched KKHH , K3G , Ishq and other frequent movies on lazy Sundays.

But one of my all time favorite is - Raja Hindustaani. I love specially its songs and Karishma's character , exemplifying - Beauty with Simplicity.

Education changes our perception. And I realized it yesterday. I noted some significant gestures and silences in the movie , without which the deeper  meaning can not be grasped.

First , the silences and facial expressions of Aamir through out the song - Pardesi pardesi jana nahi... (I just love the song)

Secondly , the meaningful look on Karishma's face through out her marriage and the song - Aaye ho meri zindagi mein ... When they sit in mandap , and she looks at Aamir , the look so penetrating , can make your soul shiver. It is a look given by a girl who has left her home (her world) and is going to marry a man she loves. But there is a fear in that look. As if she is afraid of uncertain future , the step she has taken and more , whether the man understands her or will understand.

Whole of this scene is a foreshadow of future which is destructive of their newly constructed world. The lyrics of the song and girl's expressions at that time also foreshadow future's catastrophe. It is rather surprising to see so much of subtlety in Bollywood's cinema. Kudos for the whole team of the movie.

Below is my most favorite song from the movie -

http://lyricstranslate.com

Aaye ho meri zindagi mein, tum bahar banke
Mere dil mein yunhi rahna, tum pyar pyar ban ke
Ankhon mein tum base ho, sapne hazaar ban ke
Mere dil mein yunhi rahna, tum pyar pyar ban ke- Aaye ho,,,

Mere saathi mere sajan, mere saath yun hi chalna
Badalega rang zamana, par tum nahi badalna
Meri mang yun hi bharna, taare hazaar ban ke
Mere dil mein yun hi rahna, tum pyar pyar ban ke

Agar main jo rooth jaoon, to tum mujhe manana
Thama hai haath mera, phir umr bhar nibhana
Mujhe chod ke na jana, wade hazaar kar ke
Mere dil mein yun hi rahna tum pyar pyar ban ke---Aaye ho...

For its English Translation refer this site - http://lyricstranslate.com/en/aye-ho-meri-zindagi-mein-female-aaye-ho-meri-zindagi-mein-female.html

Of the most poetic times : Young mind and Old age

Old Age is degrading

Big Brother is watching you. No its not political. Its completely familial. Our big brother is our Granddad. His eyes always follow us where ever we go. He fusses over little inconveniences and its completely natural. But what seems unnatural to us is , that he is always agitated. He keeps mala (for chanting) in one hand , ram naam on his lips but his eyes always wander about room and sometimes we suspect they follow us to our bedrooms also. Why someone who is on brink of his life should be so restless? Couldn't he even gather enough peace in his heart all his life?

Once when I was sitting beside him , as it is an order from our parents , as soon as I saw that he is fast asleep , slowly I was trying to stand up from my 'Hot Seat' , and not an inch I must have stood up that he opened his hollow eyes , reminding me of this famous tag from Orwell's classic Nineteen Eighty Four , "Big brother is watching you."

I am sorry if I make it seem flippant. It is serious for us , for him. I overheard today my mom dad's conversation. No , rather just an observation. Dad said  (indicating Gdad's helpless condition) , " This is hell." " Yes. It is only heaven till our hands and legs are working." , replied Mom. And I , who was too removed from psychic state of my parents , got to confront it rather too harshly. They are moving toward old age. Too slowly or too fast , this only they know. But they seem too old all of a sudden when they talk like this. I am no seven year old , and so I must understand what all I am seeing and listening.

These days are so poetic. Strange but true. And the poetry is that of old age and death. I don't like to call it a dirge (death song). Individuals interpret it their own way. And moreover , death is better than Old Age. A common notion shared by all of us. Except Gdad , I suppose. He is in love with medicines as a poet is in love with his muse. His words ditch his desires - 'Bas ab toh bhagwan utha le... ' and after five minutes , ' Arey Omez (calcium tablet) dena...'

Its okay , we all say. One can't help it at such times. And such times make one all the more a religious thinker. Its been hardly three days I have come at home and I am learning everything. Learning the ways of 'old age' , the ways of 'elder' , the ways of 'society' and the ways one has to choose for oneself. Its a struggle. But that of a caterpillar who turns into beautiful butterfly. I hope it is that beautiful.

Near the End : I , We and The Dying Man

I dont know I should write it or no.And I dont know whether I will be to able to convey my emotions honestly and objectively. But all I know is, that I need to write it. I just read Shannon Hayes's article "Saying goodbye : What do we teach kids about death ? ", which begins with the words - "My grandfather is dying." And I felt goose bump in my stomach. My grandfather is also dying. But unlike her , I am far away from him. Unlike her , I don't feel much for him. Unlike her , I don't feel it... feel it deeply.Perhaps it is because I am five hundred miles away from him or I am not sure , if I would have felt same , were I near  him at his bedside. Perhaps , it doesn't move me because he is old and I want his sufferings to end. Or perhaps it is just a poor ingenuine excuse. I feel ashamed and at the same time I know number of my relatives who come to visit him daily , feel the same thing , perhaps more cruelly than me. 

In her article , Shannon Hayes suggests , why don't we let the kids experience it, when death is working slowly with any of our dear ones. As a child , she was kept away from such experiences. But as a mother , she chooses to let her children see their great grandfather dying. She wants them to understand that death is not an end , its just a transition. She wants them to experience the unity and love the family shows to her grandfather. She wants them to learn to make something beautiful of even such dreadful event. 

Though I am moved not directly , but it is painful to see my mother and her efforts to bring me solace. I am sure she is strong and can deal with it but she thinks of me too frail. She would call up these days and in her wavering voice tell me things like - you don't worry beta , everything will be fine , he (grandpa) is feeling well now ... sometimes when things are worst she would try to hide them but her words would ditch her - how are you , how is your preparation going on? , concentrate on your studies , dont worry about grandpa , God will take care of everything , everything will be fine , ok , you dont worry , 'apne aap ko sambhalna' ... and so on... and I would later come to know that at that time Grandpa was seriously ill. 

I wonder , what make them think that I will be too moved or disturbed to concentrate in studies. How little they know of me. How little parents know of the inner growth of their children. How little generally  they are concerned with such things. I would in fact have liked to be there and feel the death working mysteriously with my granddad , to observe the effect it creates on different people , to explore the reactions and actions of my relatives. And of course , I would have liked to trace the minutest change occurring in my granddad's psyche and heart. 

But is it always that toward the end of life , realization comes? Realizations about the deeds of past , about the nature of life and about the nature of death itself. I think its an individual thing. It is like , whether person is theist or atheist externally , the realization of God may come or may not come to him , it solely depends on their internal (spiritual) life and not external. 

I think I would have moved , and moved deeply , if I would have seen a little bit of realization on my grand father's part. But I am disappointed. And still , I think this incident is leading me toward some realization. Realization of my duties - duty to serve him unconditionally , irrespective of his attitudes. Ultimately , my life will continue and later not serving him whole heartedly may hinder my peace of mind. And perhaps giving my hundred percent may give me a chance to see the essential of a human being - bare soul of a dying man. Sure it would be some reward. But I imagine of a more wild thing , of a more ethereal reward -  of the transformation of his soul before it leaves his petite body. And if anything I pray for him , I pray for this realization - Realization of Transformation.